


A Calculated Risk

by GreenFish



Category: Allstate Insurance "Mayhem" Commercials, Progressive Insurance
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenFish/pseuds/GreenFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Mayhem calls, it can be difficult not to answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Calculated Risk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paintingnut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintingnut/gifts).



 

i.

Flo Surrey headed into the back office to grab her jacket and bag as she headed out for the day.  She caught her co-worker Sean on the way out, grinning at him as opened her locker.  “Big plans for the weekend, Sean?”

He looked startled as he furtively glanced in her direction, then shook his head.  “Nope, probably just hanging at home with the girlfriend,” he said with emphasis on the last word.  

Flo wasn’t sure why, but she got the feeling like Sean really didn’t like her.  Maybe it was because she had moved up so quickly in their branch while he was still considered a junior associate after two years.  It wasn’t her fault she worked so hard; if he applied himself more, he’d probably be at the same level she was at.  She shrugged as she shut the locker.  “Well, happy girlfriend, happy life,” she said with a half smile and a wink.  “Have a good weekend.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Sean said, and turned without saying goodbye.  

Huh, she thought.  Some people could really use some courtesy lessons.  Slinging her Progressive tote bag over her shoulder (a gift she’d received for having the highest sales numbers in their branch two years ago), she headed out the back door towards her car.  She was halfway across the lot when she heard a loud screech of tires and screamed, just managing to jump out of the way before a beat up old sedan almost collided with her.  As the car shuddered to a stop, she immediately dropped her things and stomped around to the driver’s side of the car to give the driver a piece of her mind.  

“Just who do you think you are--?” she started to say, as the driver rolled down his window.  She glared at a guy in his late 30s, probably?  He looked like he’d fallen on hard times, judging from the garbage littering the interior of his car and the large rip on the seam of his suit jacket. He had a butterfly bandage on his face, covering a large cut on his temple, and a huge bump on the other side of his head that looked extremely painful.  

“Lady, you really need to look both ways before you cross a road,” he growled at her, leaning onto the the side of the windowsill, close enough that she could smell the sour scent of -- alcohol?

“Are you kidding me?” she asked, her eyes flashing with anger.  Her mother always said there was nothing like a Flo scorned.  “Who drives that fast through a parking lot?  Not to mention that I can smell alcohol on you!  You’re driving drunk!  I should call you in!”

“OK, first of all,” the guy said, unbuckling his belt, “I wasn’t driving that fast - did you see the ice on the road?  My car skidded out.”  

Flo glanced over and saw the huge patch of ice his car must have skidded on.  Strange, she thought.  She hadn’t noticed that before.  It was at least 40 degrees outside.  She hadn’t remembered it raining or snowing, either.

“And second of all, I don’t drink -- long story -- but I did take some cold medicine, because I’m suffering a rager of a cold.”  And as if on cue, he coughed so loudly, it sounded like he was going to hack a lung from his throat.  He stepped out of the car, and stood in front of her, and that’s when she noticed how much taller than her she was.  

Instinctively, she tightened her keys between her fingers, ready to stab at him if necessary.  “That still doesn’t excuse the fact that you almost hit me,” she said.  She stared at him through narrowed eyes, and that’s when she realized that, somehow, he seemed familiar, but she couldn’t exactly place the face.  Had they gone to high school together?  Did he go to her church?  (Not likely.)  The gym?  What was it?

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “that happens to me a lot.”

“You almost hit people a lot?” she asked, unbelieving.  

“It’s in my nature,” he said.  “Unavoidable.”

“That doesn’t even… make sense,” Flo said.  “You should learn how to drive better.  Progressive has these amazing safe-driving courses that you can take online -- I’ve taken the series six times.  I could run through it with my eyes closed at this point,” she smiled proudly.

“Now that doesn’t exactly seem safe,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.  There was something really intense about the way he looked at her.  

She shook her head quickly, suddenly feeling strangely shy.  “Uh, yeah, I don’t really… uh, do it with my eyes closed,” she said.  She could feel herself starting to blush.  

“Well, I don’t make a point to try to almost hit people - or anything, for that matter.  Disaster just seems to follow me.”

“Excuse me?” Flo asked.

“If I had a middle name, it would probably be danger.”

“That has got to be the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“So ... did it work?” he asked, grinning at her.  It was then she noticed one of his teeth were chipped.

“Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  “Are you joking?”

He grinned again, and she realized, even despite the chipped tooth, he had a pretty charming smile.  What was wrong with her, she wondered.  The guy looked like he was homeless.  And judging from the inside of his car, it wasn’t an unlikely supposition.

“No, I’m not,” he said, his grin fading into a pleasant smile.  If she ignored all the cuts and dirt, and ripped jacket, well, the guy might clean up nice.  Who knew?  Maybe he’d just had a rough day -- or year.  Her mother had always told her not to judge a book by its cover, after all.

“Well … are you asking me out, or what?”  No need to beat around the bush, she thought.

“Now you’re getting the picture, toots.”

Toots?  He lost points on that one.

“Look, I just -- I want to make up for almost hitting you,” he continued, grinning again.  There was something infectious about that broken smile.  “But I should probably get over this cold first before we get together.  So, how about I call you next week?”

She shrugged, making a face.  Why not?  It was just one date.  And she hadn’t hooked up with anyone since that insurance convention in Cleveland last spring (man, adjusters were one kinky set of guys, seriously).  “Sure,” she said, smiling crookedly.  She fished a card out of the apron she was still wearing.  “Here’s my number.”

“Flo?” he asked, looking up at her.  “That’s an old-fashioned name.”

“I’m named after my grandmother.  It’s short for Florence.”

He nodded, and started to climb back into the car.  

“Wait!” she said, grabbing his arm.  “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Mayhem,” he said.  

“Mayhem?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.  “Is that a nickname?  Or…”

“It’s just Mayhem,” he said, as she watched him reach under the dashboard and start the car.  What the hell?  Had he stolen it?  Or was his car so broken down it had to be hot-wired to start?  She didn’t think anyone did that outside of the movies.  Flo wondered what she was getting into, but didn’t have time to say anything else before he squealed off, the car blowing white smoke out of its exhaust as he drove away.

  


ii.

 

Two weeks had passed and she still hadn’t heard anything from the weird guy who called himself Mayhem.  Probably just as well, she thought.  Anyone who called themselves that had to be mentally ill.  Not that there was anything wrong with that, especially with the proper treatment and medication, but the guy definitely needed help that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to provide.  After all, she had her own issues to deal with, the least of which was that Tom and Bill from the insurance company across the street was hiding out in their store again.

“Guys,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “I know you’re hiding in the corner.  “You’re not going to end up getting business that way; after all, they’re already in our store.”

“There’s no one here,” a voice said.

“Shut up!” the other one said.  “She can hear you!”

They really were a rare pair.  “Listen,” she said, coming around the corner, and kneeling down to where they were huddled together in the corner.  “How about if I give you a donut and a mini calendar, will you guys give me a break?  I’m kind of having a rough day.”

“Oh, really?” Bill said, standing up.  “I had no idea, sorry.”  Tom and Bill followed her over to the back where they had a table with coffee and donuts set up.  

“Man, you guys have a Keurig!  With Starbucks?  Fancy!” Tom said, and popped a pod into the machine.  

“Oh, yeah, just go ahead - help yourself.  It’s not like I have other customers who’d like to use that.”  She rolled her eyes again, then perked up as she heard the bell at the front indicating someone coming in.  It was like a Pavlovian response:  no matter what she was doing, she had to look up and see who it was.  

To her shock, she realized it was the Mayhem guy, from the parking lot.  He appeared to be wearing the same torn suit as the last time she’d seen him (which further supported her homeless theory), but this time, he was also inexplicably wearing a pink headband and wrist bands, and carrying two pink weights in his hands.  Definitely crazy, she thought.  Time to nip this in the bud.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed as she walked over, ready to usher him out.  Customers were already staring.  She was pretty sure she heard her co-worker Aaron snickering from across the room.  Jerk.

“I was just out for a jog and I thought I’d stop in for a second, see if you were up to anything tonight?”  He grinned at her again with that infectious smile.  Damn it, what was it about this guy?

“Even if I was available, what makes you think I’d want to go out with you?” she whispered to him, not really wanting everyone to overhear their conversation.  She led him to the back where they’d be less conspicuous, if that was even possible.  “First you almost run me over, then you don’t call me for two weeks, and now you show up in -- this?”  She gestured to his outfit.

“What?  I have to keep up my figure,” he said, as if it explained everything.

“And what’s up with the suit?  You were wearing that the last time I saw you.”

“And you were wearing _that_ the last time I saw you,” he said, gesturing at her white shirt, pants and apron.

“This is my uniform,” she said.  “And, anyway, my point was, who jogs in a suit?”

“Why not?” he asked.  “It’s comfortable, and this way, I don’t have to change for work later.”

On one hand, she was suddenly relieved to hear that he actually had a job, but on the other hand, she was afraid to ask what kind of person would show up to work looking like that.  And what kind of job a goofy guy like this would actually have.  

“So -- we on for tonight?”

“Doing what?” she asked warily.  

“Trust me, it’ll be great.  What do you say?”

“I don’t know…” she said, but looked up to see Aaron and Sean standing at the register in the front, pointing and snickering in her direction.  What the hell was their problem?  Something broke inside her, and she turned to Mayhem, her jaw set.  “Fine,” she said.  “Meet me here at 8?”

“Sure,” he grinned, bumping her hip against his.  “See ya then.”  And she watched as he jogged out the door, hips swaying in rhythm with his elbows pumping up and down.  

She sighed loudly to herself.  What had she gotten herself into?

Tom walked by at that moment, his one hand full of mini-calendars, the other holding a coffee.  “Who was that hot babe you were talking to?” he asked.  “Do you think I can get her number?”

  


iii.

 

It was dark when he picked her up, so it wasn’t until they arrived at the house that she saw what he was actually wearing out.  The pink headband and wristbands were gone, but now he had on a white maid’s apron and, as they got out of the car, he grabbed a bucket full of what looked like... cleaning supplies?

“What’s going on here?” she asked as they walked up to the door of the large house.  She wondered if this was where he actually lived, but her suspicions against that were confirmed when he pulled out a large keychain and started sorting through it until he apparently found the right key for the lock.

“I just have to do a quick job before we start.  The Johnsons called me at the last minute.  They’re out tonight, and asked me to fill in for their housekeeper, who’s sick.  It’s sort of a side job.”  He snapped on a pair of yellow dish gloves.

“Um.  Okay…”  Flo had been on some odd dates before, but this definitely took the cake.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but this definitely wasn’t it.

She wasn’t exactly sure what to do, so at first, she just followed him around watching him “clean.”  After about two minutes, she had to take the duster out of his hand and show him how to dust a table properly.  She couldn’t figure out how in heaven’s name he’d ever gotten a job as a cleaning person.  He didn’t know the first thing about cleaning.  She’d managed to stop him from breaking a lamp and a vase, so far, but he’d still managed to drop and break an ashtray while she was picking up some food he’d just brushed onto the floor.  

“Mayhem,” she said, exasperated.  “You need to stop.  You’re breaking more things than cleaning them.  If I had hired you to clean my house, I’d probably end up suing you.  You have got to be the world’s worst cleaning person.”

“Ah, whatever,” he said.  “You can’t make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.  The same analogy applies here.”

“No -- it doesn’t,” Flo said, frowning.  She led him over to the couch and sat him down.  “You wait here.  I’m going to finish this for you so we can continue this so-called date, though I’m not sure why I would want to do that at this point.”

Mayhem shrugged, and sat on the couch, swinging his feet up onto the coffee table.  “I’ll be here if you need me, I guess,” he said.  

“Yeah,” she frowned.

 

Two-and-a-half hours later, she had finished up the cleaning, and came back into the living room.  Mayhem was still sitting on the couch, his legs now spread eagle on the coffee table, and his head rolled off to one side with drool coming out of the corner of his mouth.  He had fallen asleep.  She sighed to herself.  She was annoyed that their date had turned out this way, but on the other hand, maybe he just needed to take whatever job he could take, who knew?  Who was she to judge?  

She sat down on the couch next to him, nudging him gently.  “Hey,” she whispered into his ear.  “Hey.”

He screamed loudly, flailing wildly as he woke up.  She jumped back, but still managed to get smacked in the face.  

“Ow!” she said, rubbing her nose.

He groaned loudly, turning to look at her.  “Oh… sorry, I didn’t … oh.  Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah, you must be overtired.  I finished the job for you.”

“Thanks.”  He grinned sheepishly.  “I guess this wasn’t the way you pictured our date, was it?”

“Nah,” she said.  “But I can easily say that if my career at Progressive doesn’t work out, I could easily take a job as a cleaning person.  I’m pretty good at it, apparently.”

He patted her on the knee.  “So…  you ready to do this?”  He waggled an eyebrow at her.

“Really?  At this point, I’m ready to go to bed.  I’d really appreciate if you could just bring me back to work so I can get my car.”

“So … we’re not going to make out tonight?”

“Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“Can I at least feel your boob?”

Sighing loudly, she looked at him.  And then, for some reason, she nodded.

  
  


iv.

 

“I promised you a real date, and I want to take you out on a real date.”  

Flo sighed into the phone as she sat in the breakroom at work, staring at her sad peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  The jelly had soaked into the bread, and the soggy bread was starting to feel like a metaphor for her life at the moment.  

“I feel like I should ask you what your idea of a real date is,” she said.  

“How about a concert?  That’s a real date, right?”

“Yes, but this isn’t going to be, like, a Slayer show or something?  No offense, but metal isn’t exactly my thing.  I’m more of a Sufjan Stevens kind of girl.”

“I think it’ll be perfect then.  Are you available this Saturday?  I’d have to pick you up around 5.”

She glanced at the schedule on the wall.  “I think I can make it work.”

“I’ll pick you up then.”

She blew a long breath out between her lips.  “OK,” she said.  “See you then.”

 

Later that week, she waited outside the door of work for Mayhem to show up.  What she didn’t expect, however, was when he roared up in a pink SUV, of all things.  She had to admit one thing:  the guy was definitely unpredictable.  

“What’s with the SUV?” she asked as she stepped inside.  It was then that she noticed the the huge pink sunglasses on his head, and the fact that he was talking on a flip phone, covered in crystals --?  He waved his hand rapidly at her in a ‘be quiet’ gesture.

“No, no, I told Johnny that we’re through,” he was saying.  “Yeah, no, it’s total BS -- yeah, I know.  And then he was all like, yolo, we’re meant to be together, but, whatevs, you know?”

Flo made a face as she listened to the conversation.  He careened through the parking lot, almost hitting a car and a pole on the way out.  She cringed, wondering if she should offer to drive.  After all, using a cell phone and driving was an easy way to get in an accident, which he might know if he’d actually taken Progressive’s Safe Driving course like she’d recommended…

But the thing that was at the forefront of her mind was that he’d referenced being with a ‘Johnny,’ which sounded like a guy’s name.  And the pink car, and sunglasses?  Was he gay?  Or bisexual?  She supposed it didn’t really matter if he was bisexual, (it would also explain the pink exercise gear and oddly effeminate behavior from the other day).  Huh.  She wondered if it would be uncouth to ask.  She didn’t want to act like she was eavesdropping, but he was talking right in front of her, after all.

He hung up, finally, or rather, slapped the phone closed and threw it into the back seat, huffing loudly.  “Some people,” he said, just barely managing to stop before hitting the person in front of them.  

Flo was sure she was going to have a heart attack before the night was over.  “Anything I can do?” she asked hesitantly.  

“No, just past relationship troubles.  Nothing to worry about.”  And like a switch was turned, he grinned at her and said, “Excited about tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, sure -- I just wish I knew what we were going to see.”

“It’s a surprise, but it’s not metal.  Trust me, I think you’re gonna love it.”

 

They arrived at the Staples Center where there were already a ton of cars in the lot.  On the way to parking, he managed to flatten a series of cones and just avoid hitting a group of young girls.  Come to think of it, there were a lot of young girls around.  

A dark thought crossed her mind as they parked.  She turned to him, frowning.  “Please tell me that you’re not a pedophile.”

He laughed loudly.  It went on for a couple minutes, to the point where it was uncomfortably long.

“No, seriously,” she said, once he’d settled down, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Of course not,” he said.  “I just really like this band, OK?  They’re great guys.”

“Guys?” she asked.  And as they stepped out of the car, she noticed all the young girls walking around with handmade signs.  They had slogans like:  “Harry Marry Me!” and “1D Forever.”

“Oh my God,” she said, starting to giggle.  It was so ridiculous, she couldn’t even believe it.  “You’re taking me to a One Direction concert?”

“They’re the new Beatles.  I mean, seriously.  Everyone knows that.”

“Really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.  Out of any concert he could have taken her to, this was the last thing she expected.  Then again, if he sometimes preferred the company of men, it wasn’t that out of the question that he might like One Direction.  She’d also gotten used to the fact that Mayhem’s most defining trait was his unpredictability.  

“Well,” she said, rubbing hand over her eyes.  “Let’s do this thing, I guess.”

“We have to find Becky when we get in there.  I told her I’d meet up with her.”

“Um, all right.  But who’s Becky?”

He rolled his eyes as if she’d asked the stupidest question ever.  “My BFF, duh.  We’ve known each other forever.  And she’s, like, the biggest 1D fan.  Besides me, of course.”

“Okay…”

 

Becky turned out to be a seventeen year old girl, and it was pretty much at that point that Flo considered walking.  Was this guy a pervert?  Did he have Multiple Personality disorder?  What thirty-something guy has a seventeen year old as a best friend -- no, ‘BFF,’ as he put it.  And why, when he was around her, did he start talking like a teenager?  In fact, he’d been talking like one all night.  The whole thing was just bizarre.  

She told them she was going to get something from the concession stand, but in truth, she just needed to think.  She ended up at the beer stand and bought an overpriced beer, which she downed half of in one large gulp.  She could hear the show starting, but really wasn’t keen on going back inside with the hordes of screaming young girls and her strange date.  

After she’d finished the first beer, she bought herself a second, and found a bench to sit on, where she saw another poor soul of a parent sitting on the other end.  She realized that’s what she felt like:  a parent, watching over her child.  Mayhem was nothing more than a man-child, and a strange one at that.  Why would Flo, a girl who’d won the Perfect Attendance award at school for twelve years in a row, as well as graduating summa cum laude from her university -- why would she end up with such a crazy, weird, random guy like him?  In a way, she realized she kind of felt bad for him, but when did she cross the line from charity into stupidity?  Maybe it was because those jerks at work were irritating her so much, or maybe she was just feeling lonely, but enough was enough.  She was going to go in and let Mayhem know that she was going to take a taxi home.  This just wasn’t going to work out--

“Hey,” she heard a voice say, and she looked up to see Mayhem standing over her, his tie loosened, shirt undone.  She could see just a hint of chest hair.

Flo shuddered involuntarily.  There was something about chest hair that just did it for her.

He grabbed her beer and she watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he finished off the rest of the beer.

Somewhere along the way, he had lost the pink sunglasses, and just like that, he was the goofy, sexy guy she’d met just a couple weeks ago.  He stared intensely at her; she back at him.

“You wanna go back to your car?” she asked.

“You read my mind,” he said, grabbing her hand.

  


iv.

 

In the end, they had only ended up making out -- well, OK, there’d been some heavy petting involved, too, but she stopped him before he could go any further.  Since that night, two weeks ago, she hadn’t heard from him, which was probably for the best.  She was wondering if she should re-activate her Match.com profile.  

In thinking about that, she clicked on her phone, and noticed the alert from her My Days app.  It said that her cycle hadn’t yet been recorded for that month.  And that’s when she started thinking.  She was late.  

Immediately, she ran out to the Walgreens across the street to grab a few tests.  She thought back frantically to what they had done in the car.  They definitely had not ended up having sex, right?  She did remember some fingering action, and her hand on him, but they hadn’t ended up doing anything together … not that she could remember.  

After going through five tests and all coming up with the same result, she found herself in all-out panic.  They had to be wrong.  They had to be.  

 

After meeting up with her doctor the following day and confirming the bad news, she made the phone call she didn’t want to make.  

“Mayhem,” he answered.

“OK, I know this is going to sound weird, because I have no idea how, but I’m pregnant.”

“Who is this?” he asked.

“Flo?” she said, exasperated.  “We went on several dates.  You fingered me in the back of your SUV?”

“Oh, yeah, the lady with the poof.  Yeah, well, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Really?  That’s all you can say?  It _has_ to be yours.  I haven’t messed around with anyone else for more than six months.  Although I still can’t figure out how it happened.”

“Huh.  Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.  And after a long pause, he said, “Well, I hope you have good insurance,” and hung up.

 

===

  
  



End file.
